My First Princess

 My First Princess



     It was Halloween, 1957 and I had been the costume winner two years in a row. The scene was the playground at St. Helen school in South Gate where my 5th grade class was ruled by Sister Balbina I believe. Halloween was a big deal at the school and the kids, imprisoned in drab uniforms all year came out of their cocoons and expressed their dreams on that day. One year I was a giant with a mustache and anothter I was a Mom pushing a baby carriage. In a baby boomer neighborhood there were lots of props sitting around in garages next to Japanese combat helmets from World War II and out of style clothing created by enlarged parents living the American diet dream. The excitement was palpable since our parade took over some class time and instead of boredom there was downright exhilaration. I was confident and looking for a threepeat with a costume made up of grown up clothes. There were Supermen, cowboys, baseball players, ballerinas, nurses and one dazzling princess named Jean Lowe strutting her stuff. The Lowe family lived over on the "other side" of South Gage near Long Beach boulevard and the Vogue theater. Mrs. Lowe had allowed her little girl to wear lipstick and maybe some face powder but the result in Jean was intoxicating for a fledgling hetero boy.  The vision created  a cartoon with hearts floating and birds tittering when I saw her with her little tiara and blonde hair glowing above pure blue eyes. I was instantly in love and also paralyzed. Up until that point I never even noticed girls and thought some of them were kind of disgusting. I had sisters but I liked sports and War Movies. But as of this Halloween I  suddenly entered the land of longing and love suffering. The problem was Jean was adorable and she knew it and so did all of the boys. From that day forward much of my navigation through childhood was colored by a need to impress these divine creatures. For the next couple of months I just gazed at Jean with such kid desire it made me forget about important things like the Dodgers coming to LA. As Valentines approached I could no longer sit idle and asked my Mom if I could buy my dear one a box of candy at Sav-On. My romantically precocious brother was the role model as I had seen him go out on a date with Marylin Lynch when he was a kid.  Emboldened by his courage I bought a box of Brach's candy in a heart shaped box and begged a ride in my Mom's station wagon over to Kansas or Missouri street to the actual home of Jean Lowe. I did not have the problem my brother had with hoodlum brothers but managed to meekly tap on the front door then started when Mom Lowe opened it smiling widely. She bid me "come in" and called her pert daughter to greet her young caller with a valentine gift in hand. Jean took the box, marched over to the fridge, opened the door showing a half dozen of the exact same boxes already stacked in place. She tossed my box I had agonized over on top and then her Mother suggested she kiss me for the candy. She refused and sashayed toward her bedroom, taking my heart with her. 

 

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